


When the Earth Stood Still

by Hittocere (JadeHittocere)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Anthea (Sherlock) is the Best PA, Anthea puts up with too much for the Boys, John is Suspicious, John's Daemon is suspicious, M/M, Mycroft is the secret, Sherlock's hiding things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 03:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10756083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeHittocere/pseuds/Hittocere
Summary: John isn't sure who is touching Sherlock's Daemon, but he won't stand for it. He'll even go to Mycroft if he has to, Anora doesn't think he should get involved. Sherlock on the other hand knows exactly what's going on, he's been dealing with it all his life. Mycroft sends John with Anthea so they can have a word. Things don't go as John or Mycroft planned, but maybe... Just maybe Sherlock's plan is going right for once.





	1. Chapter 1

“Sherlock? Sherlock! Are you all right?” John Watson asked trying to draw his friend out of his stupor. Sherlock Holmes blinked and looked around for a second before twitching. He looked at Watson with a blank look before going over to his experiments. Watson’s daemon Anora looked displeased, the thud of her heavy tail as she moved to stand told Sherlock that she didn’t appreciate his current lollygagging either.

“What is it John, you need to know if I can manage not to burn the flat down or not? I’ll be fine, go. Meet up with Sarah or one of your other conquests,” Sherlock dismissed him already knowing what was going on. Watson looked like he felt the tiniest bit guilty as Sherlock watched his flat mate unmistakably shiver. Anora let out a scoff, as she approached the detective it told him exactly what the big cat thought of the whole thing.

“Are you coming down with a cold? It’s not like you to shiver like that, I can ask Mrs. Hudson to make you a cuppa before I go,” Watson asked as he reached for the door.

“It’s not a cold,” Sherlock replied watching the snow cat’s expression. She was frowning, and her tail barely twitched. “If you must know…”

“It’s his daemon,” Anora revealed twirling between Watson’s legs before nipping at his shin, “can we not go on another one of these, please?”

“If it bothers you so much why don’t you just ask her to come home?” Watson asked, Sherlock chuckled and looked over at Anora who was smirking as well.

“I’m sure that ‘he’ would never agree to that, he values his freedom too much. He also drives me nuts,” Sherlock answered with a chuckle. Anora’s tail made an amused movement, or as much as such a bulky limb could in such a confined space.

“Well maybe you should at least visit him then,” Anora suggested as Watson held the door open for her, “I’ll try to keep him out of too much trouble.”

“I’m sure you will Anora,” Sherlock bowed his head at the big cat sitting there. His friend and his Daemon walked out quietly, Sherlock watched them cross the street before his phone went off with expected text message.

 _Sorry, the Turkish minister was more clingy than I remembered. How are things with Doctor Watson?_  

 _He said if it bothers me so much I should just ask my daemon to make **her** way home, _ Sherlock typed in response. The answer came quickly, and Sherlock was less than surprised.

_He thinks your daemon is a she? Amusing._

_Anora didn’t think so though which is highly amusing, you’d like her,_ Sherlock responded, _she realizes that whomever or whatever my daemon is that I trust them. What did you think of her?_ Sherlock was surprised by just how short it was taking the other to respond.

_Dr. Watson was keen not to let me have a good look when we first met if you recall. She also was not as close when we met up at the end of your first case Sherlock._

_We need to talk, will here at the flat with the jammer work?_  he wondered what Watson and Anora’s reaction would be once they figured everything out.

 _You’re inviting me? Normally you chase me out with that blasted violin of yours,_ the reply seemed a bit cut off.

 _Something wrong?_ Sherlock typed.

 _Tonight will be fine, do you want Watson distracted while we talk?_ Clearly the other was a little uneasy about the whole thing.

 _If you’d like, we do need to discuss this especially after the Turkish Minister thing,_ Sherlock pointed out, the other responded .

 _Anthea will take care of it. See you soon._  Sherlock smirked, it was nice to know that he was afraid of something.

 

 

Anora was twitchy as they reached the surgery, John could tell that she wanted to talk to him about something. John spoke to the surgery secretary about getting a couple minutes alone with Anora.

“What’s wrong Anora?” John watched her pace before she stopped to look at him.

“Someone was touching Sherlock’s Daemon earlier, that’s why he was so upset looking,” Anora explained, “Sherlock does an admirable hiding it. Which means that Sherlock’s daemon is probably far from normal… maybe he works for that brother of his? I felt something strange when we met him.”

“We are not asking Mycroft to send Sherlock’s separated daemon home. Did you notice that…” John trailed off noticing that Anora was looking uncomfortable.

“You’ve never let me see Mycroft, how could I even have a chance to notice? I was distracted by the cops at the first case so I never saw them at that point either John?” Anora growled, “Sherlock will handle it.”

“He’s so caught up in his cases I doubt it,” John answered.

“His daemon, whoever he is, seems to know it upsets him. It doesn’t seem like he does it that often, so it must have been an accident,” Anora responded, “let it be.”

“Ok, but we talk to Sherlock about really inviting his Daemon to the flat later. Maybe you can convince him not to leave this time?” John asked, “it’s upsetting to anyone to have their Daemon touched.”

“No promises,” Anora responded with a yawn, “maybe they separated for a reason John, they might not get along at all.”

 

Mycroft arrived at 221b Baker Street almost 30 minutes after Dr. Watson left. Sherlock was in the kitchen and looked absorbed in what he was doing, which meant he was nervous. Mycroft sat down in John’s chair, and discretely turned on the signal jammer. Sherlock turned around about a minute later.

“Mycroft,” Sherlock greeted, “Mrs. Hudson made tea for us, how is Mummy?”

“Still upset of course, she still can’t figure out how I managed to settle as your older brother rather than your younger brother,” Mycroft looked amused, “Anthea found John, he’ll be occupied for an hour or so.”

“What did you do, start a war?” Sherlock asked raising an eyebrow.

“No, she took him on a date. She also said that we would owe her favors, we being me I suspect,” Mycroft sighed, “no wars yet. I suppose this isn’t what you wanted to talk about Sherlock.”

“I want John,” Sherlock offered by way of explanation, “but that means we would have to admit our situation. That means we need to agree on something, what do I tell John?”

“If you tell John what our real situation is you put everything at risk Sherlock,” Mycroft warned, “as you so nicely put it, ‘I am the British Government’. Imagine if anyone was to realize that a Daemon was running the government, nations would crumble.”

“That’s the first time in twenty years you’ve even come close to admitting that,” Sherlock pointed out wearily, “and if I don’t tell them… Mycroft, John is the only person I actually dislike lying to, yourself included.”

“You would rather lie to the physical manifestation of your soul than your flatmate? That’s deeply distressing Sherlock,” Mycroft answered, “why do you want Dr. Watson of all people?”

“He’s not boring, and he’s not a Daemon. I’m the human Mycroft, as uncaring as I am, as uncaring as we make me out to be it doesn’t mean I don’t care about everything,” Sherlock countered. Mycroft sighed, his fingers dancing against the hilt of his umbrella.

“I have a better idea, why don’t we tell him you’re the daemon and I’m the human. The government still gets to run, and you still get to break all the rules,” Mycroft proposed.

“Anora already knows that I’m not, besides… they already wanted me to ask you to come back for a while,” Sherlock dismissed the idea, but another had formed in its place.

“I know that look, that’s the same look I got before I suggested that we separate,” Mycroft looked overly pleased at the revelation, “what did you think of?”

“We could do this at one of your summerhouses, it’s more private than London, and Anthea does occasionally suggest we both take vacations. Admittedly mine seem to be vacations to white padded rooms,” Sherlock smirked, “John and Anora like the countryside, it would put them more at ease. It would also give them less people to accidently spill it to Mycroft.” 

“What exactly are you expecting from me Sherlock?” Mycroft asked with a frown.

“Spend some time with them to see what I see in them Mycroft, your observation skills are better than mine after all,” Sherlock pointed out, “and no, I will not repeat that ever again so you can get it on tape.”

“What’s in it for me?” Mycroft crossed his arms leaning back into the couch with a blank look. Sherlock realized his daemon was actually considering the idea, but he couldn’t exactly go around with Anora like John could with Sherlock himself.

“If this works out… I will concede to share John with you, no matter what it does to me. Do we have a deal?” Sherlock asked holding out a hand. Mycroft looked at his hand, before turning it over again.

“You’re serious about this then,” Mycroft retracted his hands, and Sherlock did the same, “I shall text Anthea to bring him home then. You will let me handle the situation, and then you will distract John so that I might speak with Anora?”

“That can be arranged, have you actually spoken to a daemon willingly in the past twenty years?” Sherlock questioned.

“Does Anthea’s count?” Mycroft asked hesitantly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthea is smarter than she looks

Anthea was beginning to think her boss was germophoic, it wasn’t until their flight back to London, or ‘the Empire’ as the younger Holmes phrased it that her boss cleared up what was really going on. He had looked distressed after what was one of their easiest meetings with the Turkish minister. He had glanced down at his phone multiple times as if he were expecting a call. He spoke briefly with the pilots before shutting their door.

“Anthea, there’s something I need to tell you,” Mycroft Holmes was looking at said phone again, “I need you and Alistair to promise not to tell anyone.”

“Sir, we have nuclear launch codes memorized and we have control over the entire British Government between the three of us. If we have to talk to someone we are looking at them right now,” Alistair responded sitting down next to her.

“We aren’t going to say anything sir,” Anthea repeated scratching the mostly black German Sheppard daemon’s ears.

“There are a grand total of three people who know this, you will only be the fourth. The first two are Mummy and Father, the third one is my little brother Sherlock,” her boss started, “and that’s because we have covered it up that long. The reason I don’t have a daemon, the real reason is because…” Anthea looked at her boss, she had always known that he didn’t have a daemon. It was partially because she always filled in the charts as the witness that he and his daemon were separated.

“Mr. Holmes, does this have something to do with the Turkish Minister? I’m sure we can keep him from hugging you again,” Anthea filled in as his mouth stopped midsentence. He shook his head, and sighed.

“It’s been over twenty years since I admitted this last, and its somewhat refreshing to explain to someone finally. Yet at the same time it’s a risk, what I am about to tell you is the biggest threat that British Security has,” her boss continued, “the reason I don’t have a daemon is because I am a daemon.” Her jaw went slack, her boss, the man that basically was the British Government was actually someone’s daemon?

“Whose, and how much of a security risk are they?” Anthea asked, Alistair for his part looked shocked. The German Sheppard daemon went up and nosed Mycroft’s hand as if to check the validity of his statement.

“Who else could it be other than Sherlock, he’s not anymore of a security risk than you already know. It’s why there is such a priority on his safety in the first place, and all reasonable precautions have been taken,” her boss, the human daemon of Sherlock bloody Holmes told her, “that’s why I keep expecting a phone call.” Alistair looked back at her, she hadn’t felt her boss’s contact with him at all. In fact he was now petting Alistair’s head to prove the point.

“That certainly explains why you always wear gloves,” Alistair pointed out, “which of you decided to separate?”

“I did, and Sherlock has been supportive of it. Besides the fact I choose to be his older brother,” Mycroft answered honestly, “he will probably want a word this afternoon.”

“Seeing as the Turkish minister touched you, I should say he better. That also explains why you won’t stop looking at your phone like you are expecting a howler or something,” Anthea watched in horrid fascination as Alistair slowly removed himself from Mycroft’s space, she had barely felt any of the contact between the two.

“I shall make the arrangements for your meeting then,” Anthea looked at her boss, “what really happened to your brother then? You said something about Sherlock having a drug problem in the past?”

“Part of our cover story, Sherlock couldn’t handle some of things I had to do at the time, but we couldn’t drug him because it would have affected me. Deputy Inspector Lestrade saw Sherlock in that state, and he assumed it was drugs,” Mycroft explained, “Sherlock has some stored around his flat to support the idea as well, Sherlock is a good enough actor that he played it off worse than it was for me. I got him some rather nice privileges after that, most people don’t get to take home body parts from their local morgue after all.” 

“You really do just see each other as brothers now, don’t you?” Alistair commented laying down next to Anthea.

“Yes, our bond is stretched far enough I only know if he’s truly in danger or kidnapped. He says its more or less the same, in addition to whenever someone touches me,” Mycroft answered, “I’m grateful to him for everything he has done.”

“So there’s one thing that bothers me,” Alistair thought aloud, “what happens if Sherlock ever falls in love or the like?”

“We will deal with that when we get to it,” Mycroft answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, John and Anthea's daemons are named from Dragon Age.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Watson has no clue what madness is about to happen to him.

Anthea sat across from Dr. John Watson several hours later thinking about that plane ride. Dr. Watson was a perfect gentleman, but she could tell there was something bothering him and his daemon. The tan colored snow leopard was cordial to Alistair, but she seemed rather upset over something. Anthea received a text about an hour into dinner.

_We’ve come to an agreement, I will be going on a short vacation. I will however require 2 weeks worth of clothing. MH_

_And Watson?_ Anthea messaged back.

_Your discretion. MH_

_Will it actually be a vacation? No work?_ she questioned. John was looking at his phone, he looked confused.

“Sherlock’s actually having a guest at our flat tonight,” John spoke to Anora and Alistair, “do you think it has anything to do with…”

“Mycroft is staying at your flat,” Anthea revealed, “you will be leaving tomorrow for one of his summer homes.”

 _He knows you will be there.  Assuming Watson is going with?_  Anthea looked over at John who was still looking surprised.

“What happened?”

_Of course, Sherlock plans on bringing them up to speed. MH_

_He thinks something has happened. My discretion?_ she messaged back.

_Threats against them, the usual. MH_

_Understood,_ Anthea messaged back tucking her phone away in her breast pocket.

“Someone made threats against Sherlock, more specifically his sanity,” Anthea replied nonchalantly, “they threatened his daemon. Between you and Mr. Holmes you should be able to protect his daemon. Some of Mr. Holmes security will also assist.”

“Well that doesn’t surprise me,” John shook his head, “he seemed distressed earlier according to Anora.” The tan colored snow leopard nodded looking over at Anthea herself. She barely needed to lift a finger before the check was placed in her waiting hands, one of Mycroft’s expense cards placed in their waiting hands.

“The car is outside, Alistair please take the two of them to it,” she spoke to her daemon. The Sheppard nodded, and the two of them followed without question.

 _Watson on route momentarily,_ she messaged.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No apologies needed dear Anthea, Mycroft has it all covered.

Sherlock watched Mycroft text his assistant, and realized she had likely just been informed recently. He would guess that it was as recent as their plane flight home as he could see the Sheppard hairs on his jacket.

“You told your assistant after the minister hugged you I take it, on the plane flight. How did she take it?” Sherlock asked.

“She is my assistant,” Mycroft pointed out, “she was more surprised than anything else. Also wanted to know how much of a security threat my ‘human’ would be.”

“No more than usual, John’s confused. Also wants to know where you’re sleeping tonight,” Sherlock asked predicting John’s concern over the matter. A moment later, as if on cue Sherlock’s phone chirped.

_Anthea told me it’s your brother, where is he going to sleep? JW_

“I suppose I should go clear off your bed then?” Mycroft sighed, “if he asks you cleaned it off.” He ventured off towards Sherlock’s room, and Sherlock followed after his daemon curiously to see how much of a mess he had actually left this time.

“He wouldn’t believe me if I said I did. He’d sooner believe you hired a flunky to do so,” Sherlock reminded Mycroft with a grin, “it seems that I am in between experiments. I’m sure you can handle this on your own.” He went back to the living room of the flat to sip his tea.

“You could employ a broom occasionally Sherlock,” Mycroft called from his room, “where do you keep your linens?”

“Ask Mrs. Hudson, I wasn’t aware I had extras. Otherwise have your assistant pick some up, it’s a queen,” Sherlock answered. Mycroft scoffed, and the telltale beeping of texting started going on.

“I already knew it was a queen, which begs the question. For a man who never sleeps, why do you have a queen sized bed?” Mycroft asked as he set the sheets in the hallway before walking past Sherlock.

“The broom is in John’s room, he said I wasn’t allowed privlliages after I melted the last one,” Sherlock announced watching Mycroft swap directions for his flat mate’s room.

“That hardly surprises me,” was the retort he got as the door opened downstairs. Judging by the gait and the lack of noise he was say it was John.

“How was the date?” Sherlock called, John gave him a glance that said it was uneventful. Anora however was looking at him curiously, she was sniffing around. She was confused over Mycroft’s scent. “Mycroft is borrowing the broom from your room.” John’s daemon tucked herself between their chairs and proceeded to snooze as cat daemons are prone to do.

“Glad to see that at least one of you knows how to use the broom,” John commented sliding into his chair, noting how the umbrella was still sitting next to it. “So if your brother is staying in your room, then where are you staying?” Clearly John understood they had a strained relationship at best, and Mycroft had paused at the doorway.

“I haven’t decided, most likely we’ll be sharing my room,” Sherlock admitted meeting his daemon’s concerned glance. Mycroft raised an eyebrow and continued towards his room.

“I thought you considered each other archenemies?” John asked.

“Obviously they spoke about it, otherwise Mycroft wouldn’t be cleaning his room,” Anora mumbled. Sherlock nodded, and Mycroft moved to place the broom back in John’s room. Sherlock heard the text message alert go off upstairs before Mycroft called down the stairs at him.

“Fetch your new sheets from Anthea Sherlock,” the man called as he moved back into the room to finish up some last minute cleaning.

“White?” Sherlock questioned as they passed in the hallway.

“Of course,” Mycroft answered, “I told her silk was too expensive to waste on you and to just go with the Egyptian cotton.”

“Good call,” Sherlock answered. Anthea was holding the bag, and Alistair was looking at him with an interested glance, “I take it you want a word?”

“Mycroft knows,” she answered opening one of the car doors. Anthea placed the bag where her Sheppard daemon could grab it, and Sherlock opened door for him so he could take the bag to Mycroft while the two of them spoke. Sherlock stepped in the car followed by Anthea, the driver shut the door and remained outside.

“He told you on the plane,” Sherlock acknowledged, “you have questions I’m sure.”

“I can’t begin to understand how you manage without him, Alistair is my life,” she admitted.

“Mycroft is perfectly capable of functioning without my interference,” Sherlock smirked, “it works better this way for both of us. Your knowing does not change the situation, it just affords you a better understanding of Mycroft.”

“His texts indicate that you are thinking about telling Dr. Watson,” she tapped her phone, “he doesn’t come out and say it, but this sudden trip of yours is to tell John isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Sherlock answered, “it may come as a bit of a shock, thus why we choose to do it somewhere other than Baker St.”

“That and Moriarty is still loose,” Anthea concluded, “is it safe to tell Dr. Watson?”

“He refused to take Mycroft’s money didn’t he? That alone tells me we’ll be fine,” Sherlock responded, “he’d sooner die than let anyone else know.”

“I do have to ask, if you know how important Mycroft’s position is why do you always put yourself in such dangerous situations?” Anthea asked with a scowl, “one wrong move and he would be turned to dust.”

“Mycroft understands the hazards of my work and has made allotments for it, why do you think he keeps such tight surveillance on me?” Sherlock asks coyly, “that’s the other reason he keeps you around. He trusts you to take his place should anything happen.”

“I don’t think I ever would have guessed if he hadn’t told me,” she admitted watching Sherlock’s face.

“It’s been this way since I was five, I should hope he’s mastered it by now,” Sherlock smiled, “just treat him as you always have, touches and all. We’ll take care of the rest as we always have.” Mycroft’s assistant looked relieved, like she thought it was going to change something.

“A car will be by at 9am to collect the four of you. Which estate were you thinking of?” Anthea asked.

“The one with the bees, that’s always been my favorite anyways,” Sherlock answered easily as he exited the car, “good night.” He left the door open as he left, presumably for Alistair


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Think John, really think... You've meet him before!

Mycroft took the fresh linens from Alistair and gave the Sheppard a head pet as a thank you.

“She wants to apologize, it didn’t occur to her how many times she had touched you until we went to retrieve the sheets,” Alistair’s ears drooped.

“Sherlock and I have more than accounted for that over the years,” Mycroft responded as he pulled the sheets out of the package, “hold this corner.” Alistair gently held that side in place as Mycroft pulled the opposite corner over. “That’s good.”

“So he’s not upset with us?” Alistair confirmed. Mycroft gestured to the other side of the next sheet. They pulled it to the headboard easily together, and Mycroft tucked in the end uniformly.

“Not at all,” Mycroft answered, “if I had to guess I’d say he’s amused at the moment.” He glanced around for the duvet for a moment before Alistair tugged it his direction.

“The car will be here at 9 am,” Alistair informed him. Mycroft nodded airing the heavy piece.

“When Anthea touches me Sherlock says it’s strange but not unpleasant. She has nothing to be concerned about,” Mycroft explained, “I’m sure she would understand the feeling more if Sherlock was to pat your head or something.”

“I envy you in a way, being able to do what you want to do,” Alistair explains, “but at the same time I don’t think I could do it. Being away from my person for that long and I’d be so insecure.”

“It’s not for everyone that’s for certain,” Mycroft admitted, “but it works for us. That’s all we needed.”

“Do you ever wish you hadn’t separated?” Alistair asked when Mycroft finished spreading the duvet across the top most layer.

“Not particularly, we’ve generally wished that Mummy had two children so we could have been real brothers at times, but past that no. We’ve always considered ourselves as separate entities,” Mycroft explained, “we gradually increased the distance over time, the first time I went too far Sherlock pretended he was going through a drug withdrawal to cover up the incident. We’ve never been entirely cut off from each other. There is that lingering feeling at each end of how things are going.”

“I need to be going, are you sure your person wants Dr. Watson?” Alistair asks waiting by the closed door.

“Positive, I don’t foresee any issues with it. Take care Alistair,” Mycroft acknowledged as he released the jet black Sheppard from Sherlock’s room. The daemon nodded and briskly walked down the stairs and out the door Sherlock was holding open for him, well most likely. Mycroft entered the living room of his brother’s flat and sat on the couch on the furthest point from Anora. The snow leopard opened an eye and discretely sniffed the air, Mycroft knew all she would smell was Anthea and Alistair so he wasn’t terribly concerned that she would figure it out on her own.

 

John nudged Anora gently with his foot as he heard Mycroft’s footsteps in the hallway. She grumbled at the none-too-subtle probing. Sherlock’s brother hesitated for the briefest moment before sitting on the couch rather than in Sherlock’s chair. Sherlock himself entered the room and glanced at his brother with a curious expression.

“You could have told your assistant sooner, it’s not like I’d be upset over it. It is still on isn’t it?” Sherlock asked draping himself in his chair like he was bone tired.

“Of course,” Mycroft responded as if it was the stupidest question his brother had ever asked, “how much are you telling him tonight?” Sherlock looked at him, and John almost wanted to squirm where he was seated in his chair at that look.

“Can you handle him knowing tonight rather than tomorrow?” Sherlock asked, John realized that question was actually directed towards Mycroft.

“As long as you don’t plan on sleeping with him tonight I think I can manage,” Mycroft answered, “I will be in your room in the meantime texting Anthea over what she needs to pack.” He left the room, and John realized for the first time he was actually uncomfortable with whatever Sherlock was about to say. He did however leave a small black device on the couch.

“It’s a signal jammer,” Sherlock informed him picking up the device and glancing it over, “you told me if it bothered me so much about my daemon being gone why don’t I just ask **him** to come home. Well the answer is a little more complicated than that.”

“So we are going to meet you daemon at Mycroft’s summer house then?” John asked. Anora by this point is staring at them both before wandering over to where Mycroft had been sitting.

“You’ve already met him John,” Sherlock offers by way of explanation, “think about what I’ve told you.” Anora sniffed the couch then turned to John, he could feel her confusion overlapping with his own.

“Sherlock I have no clue, I’ve never noticed anything that could be your daemon since I moved in here during the Study in Pink case,” John admitted, “a little more of a hint than that would be useful.”

“John…” Anora rolled her eyes, “I would have noticed earlier if I hadn’t been so distracted. We met his daemon during a Study in Pink, didn’t we?” The tan colored snow leopard turned to Sherlock, who nodded with a smirk.

“You did, you understand then?” Sherlock asked Anora.

“It certainly explains why you weren’t talking about it,” she snorted, “may I?” Sherlock nodded his consent, and she left the room leaving John even more confused.

“We met your daemon that early on?” John was talking aloud now, “you and he don’t get along. That could be any number of creatures.” Sherlock sighed, and leaned forward on his knees locking eyes with his flat mate.

“Anora is speaking with him now,” Sherlock hinted. John’s eyes went wide, he followed after where his daemon had gone. Sherlock was following after him with a smirk, John nudged open the door to see Anora speaking with Mycroft about something, one of Sherlock’s books draped open across his leg.

“I apologize, I thought I had him housetrained by now,” Anora answered. She stood on her back paws and used the top of her head to bump John’s gapping jaw shut.

“It’s alright, clearly he didn’t put the pieces together that Sherlock gave him,” Mycroft answered, “you wouldn’t happen to have any scotch would you Sherlock?”

“Probably not, I can probably find some if you will babysit John while he comes to terms with this,” Sherlock answered with a smirk.

“Make sure it’s a good one then,” Mycroft responded, Sherlock vanished leaving John there to look at what he always thought was Sherlock’s older brother.

“Sit down before you hurt yourself John,” Sherlock told him as he dropped the little black device in Mycroft’s hand. John sat down on the end of Sherlock’s bed trying to think of any sort of reasonable answer. He then realized that there wasn’t one. Human daemons were virtually unheard of, and Mycroft had never seemed anything less than his own person. Sherlock had once told him that his brother was the ‘British Government’, and in a way that was the biggest shock.

“You seem to have collected yourself a little, perhaps it would be best if I just started answering the most common questions,” Mycroft offered, “I was the one that suggested that Sherlock and I separate. I did attempt a few different forms before I settled on this one.” Mycroft pulled a piece of paper off the nightstand and placed it in the book.

“What were you thinking at first?” Anora asked, “or rather which ones did you try out. I found smaller mammals to be too distressing…”

“Oh, I was never small except when we were little, Sherlock was odd even as a child you can imagine,” Mycroft laced his fingers, “I was always something fierce to scare off those that would distress him. He was more interested in science than friends, and I was more interested in science and power than being a daemon. I found only one form that really allowed me the freedom to work with Sherlock and that was a human one.” Anora nodded, John could sense she wasn’t surprised at his choice.

“When did you settle into human form for good?” John asked. Mycroft raised a hand to his chin.

“Sherlock was about seven at the time, we had both decided it was probably going to happen that way when he was five,” Mycroft answered, “the other form I tried out was a Grimm. Mummy disapproved, she didn’t like me as human either, but she preferred it to a Grimm.”

“Meaning your flare for the dramatics is clearly from Sherlock,” John supplied, Mycroft nodded, “so… who all knows?”

“Father, Mummy, you, and Anthea found out on our plane ride back,” he answered with a smirk, “Sherlock and I have had a lot of practice at it.”

“I should say so, why are you just now telling,” John asked, and Anora was just as curious as he was.

“Sherlock wanted to tell you after the Turkish minister gave me a hug, he says he would rather lie to me than you,” Mycroft explained, “Anthea had to know before you so I wouldn’t have to explain it to her later if you let something slip later.” John felt his cheeks flush, and Anora was smirking as well.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drugs? Nope, just a cover for the real issue. Leave it to Mycroft.

Mycroft watched John carefully, he wasn’t taking it as bad as he expected, and Anora was fascinating. He was beginning to see what Sherlock was talking about, and he wouldn’t mind knowing them a little better. He really hoped however that Sherlock was actually getting him some scotch though, because that would make things that much less complicated.

“So then… the drugs that Sherlock supposedly did in the past?” John asked.

“Faked, all to cover up a lot of handshaking required by the job at the time,” Mycroft offered by way of explanation, “that is why I got Sherlock the pass to take things home from Bart’s morgue.”

“That certainly answers a lot,” John thought aloud, “then why does Lestrade think that he did them?”

“We planted drugs around his flat to help add to the evidence, Sherlock switched the blood results himself,” Mycroft stated, “there is something more interesting however than me right now Dr. Watson. You are the first person Sherlock has ever wanted to reveal this to, do you understand what that means?”

“Not particularly,” John answered. Anora for her part rolled over onto her feet and whispered something in his ear that turned the good doctor a nice rosy shade of pink. She then jumped up onto the end of Sherlock’s bed next to John and stared at Mycroft.

“Just to clarify this, I’ve picked up on how much he doesn’t like John and I going out with those women and their daemons. I’m assuming it’s because he would rather go out with us?” Anora asked.

“That is the impression he gave me tonight when I asked why as well,” Mycroft answered, “it’s really Sherlock’s call not mine. I don’t see a reason to disagree with him.”

“You’re saying that you want to date us too?” John sort of blurted out, and Mycroft couldn’t help but laugh at his concerned expression.

“I am saying that I am not adverse to the idea, I don’t particularly know either of you John. The time that I spend around here would be limited by my own work, but I am a daemon. Daemons get more of an impression than anything else,” Mycroft corrected, “your first meeting with me you insulted me and turned down my money offer.”

“Must have made a terrible first impression,” John mumbled recalling it clearly.

“On the contrary,” and it was Sherlock who was answering this, “he was quite intrigued and pleased with your reaction. Here, you can get your own glass.” Sherlock offered him a bottle wrapped in a paper sack. A glance at the label found him pleasantly surprised, his human had bought something very interesting.

“I was pleased with your reaction, I knew you would protect Sherlock better than my shadowy involvement could,” Mycroft answered looking for the glass he washed out earlier, “I was rather disappointed not to meet or even see Anora, but it also helped to keep my cover at the time.”

“Daemons can sense other daemons, what do you do in your regular dealings then? Surely there must be times when your cover is at risk?” John asks.

“Anthea and I deal with it as it arises, now I would like to have my scotch in peace for the night. The morning is going to come fast, and with it a short reprieve from the idiocy of the world,” Mycroft shooed them all out, Sherlock smiled as he went out with them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jumper packing issues John?

Sherlock wondered if Mycroft would tell him about John’s facial expression when he told him, because there weren’t many things that sent that much open amusement to Sherlock from his daemon. John sat down in his chair trying desperately not to look at Sherlock, on the other hand Anora was sizing him up.

“Why didn’t you just ask him? I know you didn’t like him dating those women anymore than I did now,” Anora was sitting right in front of him with her tail twitching.

“Anora, its clear why… he wanted to be sure. This is something so delicate given Mycroft’s position that he couldn’t just ask us on a whim,” John mumbled, “you could have told me. I mean your brother actually being your daemon is a massive shock that could have given me a heart attack.”

“He would have revived you, taboo or not, he would not have let you die from something so simple,” Sherlock insisted, “he’s had sex on his own before too, now that was awkward. I did have to call him after that one.”

“Your daemon doesn’t think he’s a person Sherlock, he is a person. A person enough like you to pass off as your brother, but he’s so undaemon like… He has none of the insecurities from being separated from you. He’s even got his own life that has you in it from time to time, but not constantly,” John started babbling, “and you even call him your archenemy.”

“He reads me as though I have no walls John, for me that is an archenemy,” Sherlock explains, “I never want him in the room near Anderson, I fear I wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face.”

“That would be cruel to Anderson and Sergeant Donavan to leave him in a room with them,” Anora added, “they’d be scarred for life.”

“Sherlock, are you really… you know?” John asked looking at the floor again.

“John, do you think I would risk the ‘British Government’ if I didn’t? You are the first flat mate I’ve ever had that stayed,” Sherlock smiled, “you are also the first person that Mycroft hasn’t threatened bodily harm if anything happens to me.”

“So… where do we go from here?” John asked looking Sherlock in the eye, “because I don’t even know where to start.”

“I do,” Anora interrupted, “Mr. Sherlock Holmes, will you please go out with my human so we can be don’t have to dance around it anymore?” Sherlock laughed and grabbed John’s hand.

“I certainly will, but starting tomorrow. Mycroft’s one request was that I not sleep with you tonight. Just so you know,” Sherlock answered pecking John’s cheek as he made his way back to his room. Mycroft was reading Crime and Punishment, which hardly surprised Sherlock given that he had given him the book in the first place.

“That went well judging from how you felt,” Mycroft said as he turned the page.

“Anora asked us out, John’s a bit flustered,” Sherlock answered flopping on one side of his bed, “I forgot how exhausting it is being so close to you.”

“You and me both,” Mycroft responded, “did you set an alarm for 8? Or even tell Dr. Watson when the car is coming to get us?”

“No, text him it,” Sherlock yawned as he kicked his shoes off into the middle of the floor. He then dropped his jacket off the side of the bed, followed by his belt, socks, pants, and dress shirt in rapid succession, “Toss me my bottoms.” Mycroft would have sighed if he wasn’t expecting the request. The pants landed on Sherlock’s head, and the consulting detective put them on before bundling himself down into his covers like a mummy.

“Now I remember why I asked for my own room,” Mycroft sighed, he nudged the shoes out of his way and walked out of Sherlock’s room. Watson’s room was at the top of the stairs, and he could hear that the doctor was still talking with his daemon. He knocked on the door, and looked back down the stairs momentarily.

“We weren’t bothering you were we?” John looked sheepish.

“No, I just thought you should know that the car will be here at nine to collect us,” Mycroft raised an eyebrow at the snow leopard whose tail was twitching irregularly. He sensed however that the irritation was not over him, “would you like some scotch Dr. Watson?”

“Gladly,” the man breathed.

“Wait just a moment then,” Mycroft was unsurprised to notice that Sherlock was out cold when he retrieved the bottle of scotch. A quick glance in the kitchen revealed no glassware (besides Sherlock’s beakers which were far from being in a sanitary condition for someone to drink out of.) He opened three cupboards before he found a suitable glass and decided his brother should never be let near a kitchen. Ever… again. He poured the glass of scotch, and was about to place the bottle in the freezer when he noticed the leg dangling where the ice machine should be…

Mycroft wondered if Sherlock would be offended if he asked John to move in with him instead of his brother. He’s not sure Anthea would put up with Sherlock for that long before she threatened to resign or throw her blackberry into the Thames again (top secret documents on it be damned..)

He took the bottle with him and left it on the nightstand next to the copy of Crime and Punishment that he was reading earlier. Dr. Watson had left the door open this time, so Mycroft knocked on the door jam. The poor man looked like he was about to take his MCAT’s again.

“I apologize, I had no idea the horror’s the Bart’s privileges would mean for the rest of us,” Mycroft said as he passed the doctor the promised glass of scotch.

“You are more personable than you let on during your clandestine meetings in vacant carparks,” Watson responded, “are you sure you’re Sherlock’s daemon?”

“Positive,” Mycroft responded, “that’s why we don’t tell anyone.” Anora snorted form her place on Watson’s bed, and the good doctor chuckled. He took a sip of his scotch and let the flavor swirl in his mouth.

“I’d invite you to sit, but the chair is being overtaken by jumpers, lint rollers, and presumably trousers,” Watson remarked, “if you don’t mind sitting next to Anora the bed is partially open.”

“If you insist,” Mycroft offered a hand to Anora, she sniffed it and nodded as he went to sit off to the one side of Watson’s bed, “this was Sherlock’s idea, you don’t need to dress to impress anyone.” Mycroft remarked as Watson returned to looking over his jumpers.

“Says the daemon in the several thousand quid suit,” Watson mutters, “you didn’t happen to catch my row with the chip and pin machine on your CCTV a couple weeks ago did you?” Mycroft stares at the doctor and is trying to decide if he is serious or not, based on his current expression he should perhaps have Anthea look it up for a bit of comedy for a bad day.

“No… I normally keep the CCTV cued on Sherlock,” he answered honestly.

“Ah, then I have nothing to worry about,” Watson looked relieved, “are you sure I don’t need to dress a little more… formal?”

“Dr. Watson, wear whatever you feel comfortable in, I highly recommend including your service piece for my peace of mind,” Mycroft suggested, “I highly doubt we are going to run into something interesting enough for Sherlock at the estate he requested.”

“Which was?” Anora asked curiously.

“A bee farm,” he explained, “we’ll also have minimum security due to the nature of this vacation.”

“Which means?” Watson asked with a raised brow.

“Around twenty or so men around the outer perimeter of the bee estate. With none in or around the actual house. They’ll stay at the guest estate which is about half an acre away,” Mycroft answered looking at the jumpers, “are those really the only things you own?”

“He owns two suit coats, one black, one gray. One for funerals, and one for Sundays,” Anora responded with a chuckle.

“Is it a question of money or a question of being comfortable for you Dr. Watson?” he asked glancing towards the wardrobe full of yet more jumpers.

“What’s wrong with jumpers?” Watson asked indignantly, “they are warm and very comfortable.”

“Money,” Anora whispers in Mycroft’s direction, “how else do you think we met your brother?”  Mycroft resisted the urge to smile at the leopard’s joke.

“Nothing’s wrong with your jumpers Doctor Watson, I’m sure Sherlock will find a wonderful spot for them on his floor once he’s decided to pounce on you,” Mycroft answered casually, “now if you’ll excuse me I’m off to bed, hopefully Sherlock doesn’t still sleep sideways across the middle anymore.”

 

“He’s going to take you shopping,” Anora smirked turning to sniff where Mycroft was sitting on their bed, “hmm, now this is odd.”

“What’s odd?” John asked looking over at her from where he was folding up jumpers.

“He smells just like Sherlock, only more expensive. I think they use some sort of cologne to help hide that he’s a daemon,” Anora thought aloud, “that would explain why no one has really picked up on it.”

“That and he took a human shape. With the way the two of them normally act its not a wonder no one knows that he’s a daemon,” John admits, “and now the two of them want to date us, just what does that even mean?”

“Mycroft is simply being civil, Sherlock is the one that wants to date you,” Anora reminded, “personally, I think you should just relax. Mycroft seems to think Sherlock is more interested in you than how much pension you have left.”

“I know that, it doesn’t make it any less nerve wracking,” John explains, “I still can’t decide what jumpers I should pack.” Anora snorts at him and resists the urge to follow after Mycroft and bother him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate writing chapter summaries. You might have already guessed this..


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Always have a backup umbrella

Anthea chuckled at the messages that Mycroft had been sending her. Her first task was to find Dr. Watson ‘s row with chip and pin machine. Once it was found, burnt to a dvd copy, she sent it Mycroft’s phone. The next order of business was to find a store that Mycroft could take Dr. Watson to for some nicer formal wear. She found two suitable stores, and requested John’s numbers if he wanted some premade for him.

The response of his numbers was instantaneous, were Watson’s choices in clothing so appalling? She asked him what colors he thought would look best. Mycroft responded it was probably best left to her discretion, she smiled. Her boss trusted her to buy his own suits, why not Watson’s?

He then sent her a text about Sherlock’s food requirements for their trip, and that she read over them. Most of them were basic, Mycroft had added a request for an extra three bottles of scotch with Dr. Watson in mind. That and a laboratory for Sherlock to work on his experiments with, because Mycroft wanted edible food available for himself and Dr. Watson. She restrained herself from texting back that daemons don’t need to eat, her boss wouldn’t appreciate the comment.

She made the necessary calls and looked down at Alistair who was watching CNN and BBC news while she dealt Mycroft’s requests. Nothing world threatening… ISIS was lingering in the background making threats, rounding up hostages, and all of it was being covered up as Al Queda’s movements. The Egyptian riots weren’t helping the general public’s fears or easiness.

She may have tipped the Americans off another outpost that had ceased being useful again. In the long run it was just another ploy to make people feel less scared over the things they can’t control. Anthea wanted to laugh at their fears, and tell them her paperwork told a much more terrifying tale. She thought better of it, Mycroft was an excellent boss that had eased her into the position she was now in. As his assistant she could both thwart and start wars, Mycroft had shown her so much…

His last text stated that Sherlock intended to date Watson. She wondered what that meant for her boss, because Sherlock clearly wasn’t going to leave it at just platonic for long. Maybe that was why the four of them were going on vacation. Whatever the case, Mycroft was certain to have his hands full.

 

Mycroft wakes up to Sherlock’s violin at seven am sharp, it was a piece full of coordinated notes with a soft relaxing melody. It was eerily calm for Sherlock, Mycroft watched his fingers glide gingerly across the strings. It almost made Mycroft wish he hadn’t given up the cello years ago.

“Sleep well brother?” Sherlock asked as he finished off the current piece.

“Dr. Watson will be pleased to know that you no longer kick in your sleep,” Mycroft announced with a small yawn. Sherlock scoffed, unphased by Mycroft’s response, which meant he had done so on purpose, in past anyways.

“What did you say to John? He’s asleep on the couch with his bag beside it,” Sherlock commented as he packed up his violin.

“I warned him that his jumpers may suffer the same fate as your clothes, and that casual wear was more than appropriate,” Mycroft responded as he stretched out his shoulders.

“Did you make the requests already?” Sherlock asked watching Mycroft redress.

“What happened to your ice machine?” Mycroft countered.

“It’s still there, I take it you found McKinley, I should be done with him when we get back,” Sherlock informed him.

“We? Sherlock…” Mycroft pulled his coat on as Sherlock left the room. He slips on his shoes and reluctantly follows after Sherlock. The eccentric detective has placed his packed violin next to John’s bags.

“We can discuss this later, preferably never Mycroft,” Sherlock answered going to check the post that was relevant. “I suppose I should actually pack something besides the violin…”

“I am not your maid,” Mycroft points out, “it makes no difference to me if you walk around the estate nude for the entire two weeks. Dr. Watson and Anora might take offense to it however.”

“Did you know the earth revolves around the sun?” Sherlock asks glancing over at Dr. Watson’s sleeping form. Anora is draped across the top of the couch sleeping just as soundly as her human.

“Of course, so he noticed that you didn’t I take it?” Mycroft chuckles noting the irritated expression, “serves you right for deeming it unimportant.”

“You dub a lot of things as unimportant Mycroft, I would however recommend you keep your voice down. John is the farthest thing from a morning person,” Sherlock warns, “Anora’s threatened to bite me the next time it happens and coffee isn’t presented as a peace offering.”

“Stop making excuses and pack your own clothes,” Mycroft replied quietly, “or you may be forced to wear John’s jumpers for the whole trip.”

“The smell would be pleasant at least,” Sherlock comments as he returns to his room. Mycroft shakes his head, and prepares a single cup of coffee for himself. His back isn’t as stiff as he thought it would be from sleeping on Sherlock’s firm mattress rather than his own.

He thinks perhaps it’s because he and Sherlock actually slept within three feet of each other that made the most difference. It’s more comfortable than he suspected, waking up in flat with both Sherlock and his flat mates nearby. He will have to be careful not to become to addicted to the pleasantness of it. When Sherlock returns with a smaller suitcase at 7:45 John shows the first signs of stirring. Anora is fully awake and staring blearily at Mycroft as John shifts his back towards the center of the room.

“Don’t bother with a coffee for him,” she offered, “he’ll be back asleep as soon as he’s in the car.”

“Who said we are going by car the whole way?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow, “the car is taking us to the station, there are four seats for us booked under Sherlock’s name. Mine stands out a little too much at times.”

“Mycroft you should have just booked them under John’s name,” Sherlock butts in, “it’s not like my name doesn’t stand out any less than yours.”

“Anthea made the reservations, she usually uses Sherlock’s name for mine anyways,” Mycroft admits, “it’s always been a joke frankly.”

Anthea smiled as Mycroft walked down the stairs, Sherlock was carrying a violin case, her boss’ umbrella, and a small suitcase. John had a larger case that was partially resting against his leopard daemon for balance, and she had her teeth partially pulled back into a smirk. She was clearly amused with something either her boss or Sherlock had said.

“Dr. Watson didn’t sleep well last night,” her boss offered by way of explanation, “he was unnerved by how he was supposed to dress for the occasion.” Anthea chuckled, that explained the message about John’s numbers, it was a favor for John’s peace of mind. One of their assistants loaded the bags in one of the two cars she had arranged. Mycroft shoved Sherlock Holmes into the car with a role of his eyes and carefully got into the other car where Anthea had a door open waiting for him. Alistair followed her in, his jet black fur moving like waves across his back, he purposely sat on Mycroft’s foot. Her boss didn’t bother to pull his foot out from under the Sheppard daemon.

“There isn’t anything worth debriefing about before your vacation,” she started opening the discrete briefcase she had brought to the car for him to glance over, “we’ve covered most of these subjects before. Any specifics you need to be kept in the loop about before you leave?” Mycroft adjusted the papers in the briefcase, reading the paperwork lighting quick, in a way that left most people shocked. For Anthea it was normal, so was the way her boss avoided people’s touches like they carried some form of plague.

“Everything, and nothing,” Mycroft answered cryptically, “hardwired encrypted line in the office for me?” Anthea nodded, taking the briefcase back without question as Mycroft handed it off to her.

“Of course,” Alistair responded in a bored tone, “I do so hate it when you go on vacation. Everything is either exceedingly boring, or the world acts like it is going to end.” As he rubbed his back against Mycroft’s shins, normally so inappropriate except in this particular case.

“Alistair!” Anthea hissed, as she went to pull her normally impeccable daemon off her boss.

“You’re annoyed with him and his lying to us about who he is,” Alistair was staring down his human, “apologies, normally we do this without you present.”

“It’s fine Anthea,” Mycroft nods, “although Sherlock is going to wonder why I have Sheppard hair all over my trousers.” Alistair kindly removed himself from Mycroft’s personal space and sat at Anthea’s feet.

“No more secrets, no more lies,” Anthea’s words weren’t harsh, “about you. Or I will resign and you will have to train a whole new assistant.” The threat loomed in the air as Mycroft chuckled.

“That was the only one, besides all of Sherlock’s, not my secrets to tell,” Mycroft explained, “also, you would never resign. I pay you too much, and you enjoy it more than you are annoyed by one little secret on my part.” He pointed out as went to reach for his umbrella, he had forgotten that Sherlock currently had it. Anthea pulled one from the trunk behind her, he gratefully accepted the spare.

“Make sure you leave it, your ‘brother’ will notice,” Alistair reminded him. Mycroft twirled his hands around the umbrella.

“He’ll know anyways,” Mycroft pointed out, “Sherlock will know the exact moment you handed it to me likely enough.”

“Any relevant and important information will be sent immediately to your mobile if necessary. Nightly updates will be emailed to you, encrypted to keep anyone else from reading them,” Anthea reported, the unspoken exception being Sherlock who would probably just glance over the files anyways.

“If the need is especially urgent John’s phone will also suffice to get my attention,” Mycroft informed her just as the car pulled up at the station. Anthea watched in silent amusement as her boss exited the car, she had a feeling it was going to be an interesting two weeks without him.

 

Sherlock knew that Mycroft’s assistant was an entirely too patient woman, but for her to accept the fact he was in fact a daemon spoke volumes to her competency. She had reacted exactly the way his brother thought that she would, with only a slight hesitation before continuing her work. Sherlock watched John snooze against his shoulder while Anora watched the both of them.

“Just how does Mycroft manage it, I can’t stand to be so far from John,” she grumbles from her place halfway on John’s lap.

“It was his idea, and it was distressing at first. The only time he really stretched it too far I was more prepared for it that he was,” Sherlock’s chuckle drew her attention in further, her eyes widening as she recalled that first night again.

“The drugs bust,” she whispered, watching as he smirked in response.

“Lestrade assumed I was going through a withdrawal based on the shaking and fever I was going through. Thanks to a minimal amount of effort on my part Mycroft’s true nature was concealed,” Sherlock turned his glance briefly to John, “he was right, I’ve never used drugs, but I’ve seen what they do. Mycroft was all too happy to supply the appropriate ones once I managed to get a hold of him. That oddly enough was actually more difficult than getting through the constant touching or the pain of our separation.”

“What was?” Anora tilted her head.

“Getting Mycroft’s attention,” Sherlock elaborated, “Anthea finally put the phone through three days later. That was after I hacked his email, and left him several cryptic messages.”

“What was he even doing?” Anora looked curious.

“Running for parliament,” Sherlock responded, “he was shaking hands all day with the different members and Lords. Some went so far as to hug him in congratulations. Mycroft apologized profusely when he realized what it had done to me, I for my part forgave him."

"That is surprising considering the animosity you to displayed for me and John when you introduced him," Anora pointed out.

"A practiced act for the public. Mycroft told me he touched John's  hand when he met you. He was impressed by the reading his touch granted him," Sherlock  held his hand up flat, "he called me afterwards, said you two were welcome to stay as long as I liked. You and John were the first people he has ever approved of."

"Has he ever brought anyone to you to 'approve' of?"  Anora asked, her skepticism showing by the way her tail flicked back and forth, "because this won't be some open thing Sherlock." The detective laughed, and pulled his hand back to his own person.

"Mycroft believes that caring is a weakness, the only thing he truly cares about is his life," Sherlock explains, "so by extension the only person he keeps an eye on is me. He's not looking for anyone." They pulled up to the station and Sherlock watched Mycroft get out of the first car speaking with his assistant. Their bags were removed from the back by his men, and Mycroft waited for them to exit the car, which took John some time seeing as he was dead asleep.

"Our seats are in the reserved section, I need your id to go pick up our tickets," Mycroft held out a hand for it. Sherlock fished out his id, and looked over at Anthea who just looked more amused.

"Thank you," was all she said before she and the rest of Mycroft's staff mysteriously vanished. Sherlock suspected it was for actually taking Mycroft out of the office, but he doubted either of them would admit that.


End file.
